


Martyr

by jericho



Category: Backstreet Boys
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-08
Updated: 2012-06-08
Packaged: 2017-11-07 06:40:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/428053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jericho/pseuds/jericho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Howie can't figure out how to get out of the middle of Nick's problems, or even if he wants to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2000.

Nick leaned over the toilet in Howie's room, his body cramped into the small space near the bathtub, sweaty strands of hair plastered to his forehead. He wiped his mouth with shaking fingers like he thought the worst was over, and then he heaved again. 

Howie sat patiently on the edge of the bathtub. His eyes were puffy and his hair hung in a slightly tangled lump from when he had been in bed, fast asleep. The sights and sounds and smells were repulsive, but Howie stayed. He always stayed. 

Nick paused and Howie leaned in cautiously, picking a sweaty strand of hair from Nick's eyelash. "You should see a doctor." 

"No," Nick mumbled. "I'm not sick. I'm just fucked up." 

"We could just take you quickly. To make sure you're okay. There's a hospital just down the...." 

"No." Nick's choked protest ended with another heave. He'd been heaving for a good half hour. Howie had gone down to the vending machine and bought $6 worth of bottled water. He was worried that Nick would dehydrate. And deep down, he was just a little worried that Nick would die. 

Howie stood slowly, stepping over Nick and grabbing a fresh washcloth from the rack. He ran the faucet until the water was nicely cool and soaked the cloth under the steady stream. Then he squeezed out the extra water and set the cloth by the sink, waiting for the moment when he'd need it. He looked down to find Nick hugging the toilet, his arms wrapped tightly around the bowl, his head down like he couldn't find the energy to use his neck muscles. 

Howie sighed deeply and started to lean on the counter when he heard a sharp knock at the door. 

"Fuck," Nick said in a shaky voice. "That's gonna be Kevin." 

"I'll handle it." 

Howie didn't even have to look through the peep hole before he opened the door. It was Kevin, dressed in sweats and an old T-shirt, his eyes sharp with anger and frustration. "Is he in here?" Kevin asked. 

"No." 

"You're lying. He was so fucked up that the bellhop had to bring him up here. He woke up the entire floor and I saw him come in here." 

Kevin stepped to the left, trying to get into the room, and Howie stepped in his way. 

"He's fine," Howie said. "He's just tired." 

"Why do you cover up for him?" 

Howie bit his lip, staring at the wall on the other side of Kevin. He wasn't sure how to answer the other 200 times Kevin had asked him that question, and he didn't have any better clue now. 

Kevin waved his hand in the air. "Forget it. You can keep him." He turned on his heel and strode back to his room, slamming the door when he got there. 

Howie closed the door slowly, turning the handle so the door wouldn't click too loudly when it shut. Back in the bathroom, Nick had maneuvered himself into a sitting position and was leaning against the bathtub. "Was he pissed?" Nick asked groggily. 

Howie didn't answer. He grabbed the cold cloth from the sink and dabbed it against Nick's face. "Easy," Howie mumbled when Nick flinched, and Nick let him wipe the sweat and tears off his hot, clammy skin. 

Nick got to his feet relatively easily, following Howie to the bed and flopping on it. "Take your shirt off," Howie said. "I'll get you a new one." 

"Kay." Nick squirmed and tugged clumsily at his shirt until Howie knelt on the bed next to him and motioned for him to sit up. Nick sat up obediently, expressionless as Howie tugged off the shirt and tossed it on the chair. As soon as the shirt was off, Nick flopped back like a rag doll. 

Howie timidly unbuttoned Nick's pants, careful not to touch the wrong places. "Hey," Nick said with a lazy grin. "I know what you want." 

"Very funny, Nick," Howie said quietly, leaving Nick's boxers on and tossing the pants on top of the shirt. "Do you want something to wear or do you want to sleep like this?" 

"Sleep like this," Nick muttered, already turning on his side and tucking his face into the pillow. Howie tugged the blanket out from under Nick like a magician pulling out a table cloth and leaving the place settings. He covered Nick with it halfheartedly and Nick kept rolling. He ended up on his stomach, his arms stretched across the bed. 

Howie climbed off the bed and examined his handiwork. At least Nick was out of his clothes. They still reeked of the bar - booze, cigarette smoke, dry ice - not to mention a few other odors Howie didn't want to think about. And he was asleep. That had to be a good thing. Except now he was taking up Howie's entire bed. 

Howie grabbed the spare blanket and trudged toward the big stuffed chair in the corner. He paused when he heard a mumble behind him. 

"Sleep here," Nick said, his eyes still closed as he patted the bed next to him. He rolled heavily on his side and covered his eyes with his forearm. "It's your bed. Sleep here." 

Howie lay down next to Nick, trying not to move the mattress. He knew the rest of his night would be filled with punches and kicks from the wasted sleeping boy next to him. 

The next morning Howie's eyes blinked open, and he still wasn't sure if he'd actually slept. Suitcases rattled down the hall on the other side of the door, and he heard AJ's voice saying "I don't have any coffee in my room." 

Howie sat up, patting down his hair and rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. He reached back and tapped Nick. "Come on. Get up." 

"Noooo." Nick rolled on his stomach so his face was buried entirely in the pillow. 

"Get up. I mean it. You gotta go get your stuff." 

Nick rolled off the bed and somehow landed on his feet, looking like a pissed off stray cat. He crossed the room without a word, grabbing his clothes on the way by, and left in his boxer shorts. 

Getting his stuff together was easy. Howie always unpacked the same things - shaving kit, toothbrush, his vanilla shampoo, an entertainment magazine. He lugged his suitcase in the hallway to find Kevin and Brian. 

"He was in there," Kevin said simply. 

"He's just a kid, Kevin," Howie said weakly. 

"He's not a kid. He's 21 years old." 

"He's as much of a kid as he's ever been." 

Kevin rolled his eyes. "Don't give me that 'he's never had a chance to grow up' thing again." 

AJ popped his head out of his hotel room, a steaming mug of coffee in his hand. "What's going on?" 

Kevin grimaced. "Ask the enabler." 

AJ paused. "Okay, I don't even know what the fuck that word means." 

Nick came out of his hotel room loudly, tugging his suitcase behind him, his eyes already focused on Kevin. They narrowed in. Chose their target. Howie held his breath. 

"Nick," Kevin said, like Nick's name was a sentence on its own. "You were so loud when you came in last night that we'll be lucky if they ever let us back here." 

Howie expected Nick to yell, or make some smart remark with the word "fuck" in it. But instead, something entirely different happened. Nick swung his suitcase and let it fly, the big black lump sailing in Kevin's direction so that everything in its path had to step out of the way. Kevin dodged it and stood against the wall, watching it land with a loud thud on the carpeted floor. 

Nick's eyes were steady. "Don't. Fuck. With me." 

Everyone stayed frozen, afraid to move. Finally Howie cleared his throat and found his voice. "Nick, come on...." 

Nick glared. "Don't defend him, Howie." 

Nick grabbed his suitcase and strode angrily toward the elevator, not looking back. Everyone stayed still for a second, looking at each other, until Brian got a better handle on his suitcase and followed Nick. Kevin followed after them. 

AJ raised an eyebrow at Howie. "Why do you let yourself get in the middle of these things?" 

Howie exhaled loudly. "I don't know. Come on." 

*** 

The bus rolled steadily over bumps and miles of highway pavement, the weather outside like an afterthought now that they were in their bubble. Kevin and Brian rode on one bus, which AJ and Nick had begun referring to as the "married man bus." The other three rode on the "fun person bus." 

That day, after the incident in the hallway, the fun person bus was not overly fun. Nick was in his bunk, snoring loudly as he slept off his hangover. Howie and AJ sat at the table playing a halfhearted round of Go Fish. 

"Do you have any twos?" AJ asked. 

Howie looked down at his cards, rubbing his eyes so he could focus better. "Go fish." 

AJ peered from over his sunglasses. "Did you sleep at all last night?" 

"I'm not sure." Howie rubbed his eyes again as AJ took a card from the table. 

"You want a pair of my sunglasses?" AJ asked. He didn't wait for an answer, just leaned out of the booth and grabbed a cheap pair with neon green frames from the counter. "Here. Wear these. I'll never wear them. Some fan gave them to me." 

Howie took them and studied them, turning them over in his hands so the green glowed in the light. "These are just bad." 

"I know. But I can't stand throwing them out. I thought I'd give them to somebody." 

Howie put them on and smiled at AJ. "How do they look?" 

AJ laughed. "Just bad, man. Give 'em back." 

Howie took them off and looked at his cards again. "Do you have any queens?" 

AJ smirked, ready to pull his usual one-liner. "Just the one on this bus," Howie said along with him. 

AJ laughed as hard as he did the first time he said it. Then he scratched his head and looked at his hand. "Wait. Actually, I do have one." 

"Thank you," Howie said, taking the card and putting the pair in a neat pile with his other ones. "Do you have any fives?" 

"Go fish," AJ said proudly. 

Howie picked up a two and smiled at it briefly before he put it in his hand. 

"Do you have any fours?" 

"Go fish." 

AJ took a card and clicked his tongue at it before he put it in his hand. "You should go sleep." 

"I know," Howie said. 

"No. Really. You should go sleep so we can go out and get really drunk tonight. You need to get drunk after what happened today. They were, like, ganging up on you." 

"I know. Okay. Soon as I'm done this game." Howie rubbed his forehead, feeling the beginnings of a killer headache. "Do you have any twos?" 

AJ dropped his cards in mock exasperation. "You said you didn't have any!" 

"I didn't. But I do now." 

AJ flipped the card so Howie had to scramble to catch it. "Here. Take the two. Actually, take all of 'em. Go sleep." 

"Okay." Howie smiled a little as he set the cards on the table. He slid out of the booth and trudged to the back, rolling in his bunk and closing the heavy curtain so he was back in his six-by-three foot world. He slept until they hit the next town. 

*** 

It was just an average club, with swirling lights and a bar along the side, littered with half-empty glasses and full ashtrays. It was just another dance floor, with people bumping and grinding their sweaty bodies together, and the people lining the dance floor rocking gently to the music and looking like they were waiting for something to happen to them. But by the time AJ and Howie were ready to leave, the club looked spacey. 

"I love this song," Howie mumbled as AJ pulled him through a row of tables. 

AJ laughed loudly. "No you don't. I bet you don't even know this song." 

"Doesn't matter," Howie mumbled, banging his hip on one of the chairs. "I love it anyway." 

"You're fucked," AJ replied. 

"So are you." 

"Yeah, but I can handle my booze a lot better than you." 

"Fuck you," Howie said, and giggled so hard that he sat down on the nearest available chair. He didn't want to go back. It felt like his brain had come loose - all these thoughts and feelings he didn't usually have, and ideas for songs and stories and projects pelting him from every direction. 

AJ stopped and stood in front of him. "Come on. We have to go." 

Howie looked up at AJ, who was impossibly tall and multicolored standing there. Howie tried to focus on AJ's eyes and his stomach tilted. Maybe he did want to leave. 

"Okay," Howie agreed, standing up and grabbing AJ's arm as AJ plowed through the crowd of people. "We didn't sign enough autographs." 

"That's because you probably can't write your name," AJ said. 

"You're so witty. How did you get so fucking witty?" 

AJ and Howie spilled into the car, landing awkwardly on the seats as the door closed behind them. AJ grabbed Howie's shoulder to pull himself into a sitting position, his ass sliding on the new vinyl. "What's that word for Jesus?" he drawled. 

"Father? Son? Holy Ghost?" 

"It's Holy Spirit," AJ argued. 

"No, it's not. It's Holy Ghost." 

"Holy Spirit." 

"Holy Ghost." 

AJ shook his head hard like he was trying to make his brain rattle. "That's not what I'm talking about anyway. That word for Jesus. You know. Jesus." 

"Oh, _Jesus_ ," Howie said like he suddenly got it. "Okay, AJ, I have no idea what the hell you're talking about." 

AJ moved his hand in slow circles like it would help him articulate. "You know. When they took him up to the cross and crucified him, and he died for everyone's sins, and he had to save the entire world. What's that called?" 

"Martyr?" 

"Martyr!" AJ looked like he had won the lottery. "Biblical phrases for $400, Alex..." 

Howie shot him a puzzled look. 

"Jeopardy? Alex Tribek? Nevermind." AJ used Howie's shoulder to pull himself closer and rested his arm on the back of the seat. "That's you." 

"Alex Tribek?" 

AJ rolled his eyes. "Can you follow a fucking conversation? A martyr! You're a martyr!" 

Howie leaned his head back on the seat to think about it. "How so?" 

"Because you take the whole group's problems and put them on your shoulders. And you don't need to." 

Howie opened an eye. "Are you comparing me to Christ? That's blasphemous." 

"No. Because Christ needed to do it. You don't." 

Howie let his eyes slip closed again. He felt AJ's warm breath against his neck as AJ's head rested on Howie's shoulder. Under normal circumstances, Howie might be slightly turned on by the contact. But nothing turned him on right now except bed and sleep. 

"So stop it," AJ mumbled, his voice groggy. "You don't need to do it. Stop it." 

"Kay," Howie said. 

They slept for the five minutes it took them to get back to the hotel before their bodyguard yanked them back into reality. They stumbled to the elevator like village idiots, hands fumbling through pockets for key cards. "I can't find my key card," Howie said when he slumped against the wall in the elevator. "I can only find Nick's." 

"Why do you have Nick's key card?" AJ said. 

"He always gives it to me. Long story. It's in case he can't wake up." 

"You're like that kid's mom." 

Howie's head dropped back against the wall. "What kid?" 

"Nick! Jesus...." 

"Martyr!" Howie replied, and couldn't help but laugh. 

"You are making no sense, man. Did you take some acid when I wasn't looking?" 

The elevator door dinged when it opened and they stumbled into the hallway. "Then go to Nick's room," AJ said. "Wake him the fuck up like he always does you." 

"No..." 

"Do it. Go in there and land on him and say 'take care of me.'" 

Howie shook his head. "I don't even know which room is his." 

"It's this one." AJ stopped and pounded his fists against the door. "Wake up, Nick! You have company!" 

"Sssshh. Kevin's gonna freak." 

"Kevin can lick my nads." 

AJ had barely turned around when Nick's door swung open. Nick stood there in boxers and an old T-shirt, his eyes half open and his hair messy. 

AJ walked behind Howie and shoved him toward Nick. Howie's face landed in the middle of Nick's chest, his balance leaving him in such a rush that Nick had to catch him. Somewhere off in the distance he heard AJ giggling his way down the hall. 

Howie finally found his footing and looked up at Nick, the change in angle making him fall backward again. Nick caught him and yanked him forward, Howie's feet struggling to keep up as Nick pulled him in the room. 

Nick shut the door and faced Howie. "You want a T-shirt?" he asked, his voice crisp with impatience. 

"No," Howie said. "No. I'm fine. I'm going to my room." His hand fumbled in his pocket for his key card, getting more frantic the longer Nick watched him. He pulled out a mass of gum wrappers and a couple of receipts. "I just....I gotta find my card." The harder he tried to look sober, the drunker he felt. "I just want to go to bed." 

Nick's expression softened. "Just sleep here. You can find it in the morning." 

"No. It's in here. I put it in here. I'm going." 

Nick's strong hands grabbed Howie's shoulders and turned him toward the bed. "Sleep here. You can find it in the morning." 

The twin needs of pride and sleep battled in Howie's brain for a few seconds. Pride. Sleep. Pride. Glorious sleep. A bed right in front of him. 

Howie slipped off his jacket and let it land on the floor in a lump. "Okay." He fell on Nick's bed and curled up in the corner, flipping his shoes off as his eyes closed. His last memory of the night was the sound of Nick climbing across him, the jiggling mattress setting his stomach in motion, and Nick laying next to him to sleep. 

*** 

More miles of paved highway, except this time the bumps made Howie's stomach lurch. He sat in a slump at the table, his head pounding, Nick across from him this time and AJ asleep in the bunk. 

Nick had found a silver marker from somewhere on the bus. It must have been used to sign black things, but Howie wasn't sure. It smelled like paint and rattled when you shook it. And Nick wouldn't stop shaking it. 

Rattle rattle rattle. 

Howie wanted him to stop. He really did. But he couldn't bring himself to have a conversation since the one he had with Kevin in the hallway that morning. Kevin had asked who had been so loud last night. Howie had said "Me" in a timid voice. 

"Oh," Kevin had replied. And that was it. 

Rattle rattle rattle. 

Nick grabbed the neon green sunglasses and studied them. Howie buried his face in the Entertainment Weekly, holding it up to block out the sun that was coming in the windows. 

There was silence, and Howie could tell that Nick was concentrating on something. Then Nick's face appeared above the magazine. He'd used the silver marker to draw eyeballs on the sunglasses. Now he was wearing them. 

Howie giggled a little in spite of himself. Nick collapsed in the seat in laughter. "Let's see what they look like on you." 

Howie took them and put them on, evoking more laughter. 

AJ trudged out from the hall, scratching his chest through his thin T-shirt. "What did you do to my sunglasses?" 

Howie took them off and threw them across the table. 

"I made them better," Nick said, putting them on for AJ. "See?" 

More laughter. AJ pretended to be offended. "But they're my glasses!" 

"Wear them like that," Howie said. "They'll look better on you." 

"Oh..." AJ paused, and Howie could tell he was trying to come up with the perfect insult. "Act your age, not your height, Dorough." 

"Ooooooh," everyone said in unison. 

When the bus stopped, AJ stepped into a throng of fans with his green eyeball sunglasses. "You guys are so immature," Kevin said, but his tone was light. 

They went to a club that night, but Howie didn't drink. He sat slumped at the bar with a bottle of water, watching Nick work the floor and AJ work the ladies. Nick kept wandering back to the same guy - a stranger who probably had drugs on him. Then they headed for the restrooms. 

Howie slid off his stool and followed. He needed to sleep tonight. There was no way he wanted Nick vomiting in his bathroom. He got to the hall and their bodyguard put his hand on Howie's chest. "You can't go in there. I'm supposed to keep everyone out." 

"Oh, come on," Howie said. "I know what he's doing." 

The bodyguard shook his head solemnly. "Sorry. Can't let you through." 

"You work for me too. I'm going." Howie rarely pulled rank on anyone, but he knew that would work, and he walked by uncontested that time. 

The men's room was empty except for a closed stall. "Nick," Howie said sharply. 

There was a long pause. "Just a minute," Nick said weakly. 

"Nick, I know what you're doing. Get off it." He strode to the stall door and pushed hard, not surprised that it was unlocked. The door swung open and bumped against the guy on his knees in front of Nick. Nick scrambled to tuck his shirt back in, fumbling to do up his zipper. 

Howie's jaw dropped. He couldn't even bring himself to blink. "Oh," he said. 

Nick stared. The guy stared. Howie stared. "Oh," Howie said again. "Nevermind. Continue." 

Howie turned and darted out the door, his vision wavering. He stepped quickly past the bodyguard, knowing his face was flushed. AJ found him at the end of the hall. 

"What's up?" AJ asked. 

"Nick was..." Howie motioned in the direction of the restrooms. "Nick is..." 

AJ's brow furrowed. "Nick is what?" 

"Nothing. Nevermind. Let's dance." 

*** 

Nick came to Howie's room that night, about five minutes after they all returned to the hotel. Howie lay in bed with the blankets tucked around him, knees bent and face against the pillow. He didn't move when Nick arrived. 

"Hey," Nick said, stripped out of club clothes and back into boxers and a T-shirt. 

"Hey," Howie replied, trying to sound casual. 

"I'm sorry," Nick said. 

"No. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have just barged in on you like that. I just...that wasn't what I thought you'd be doing." 

Nick looked around the room, tapping his hands nervously against his legs. "I'm not gay or anything. Like, I just like to do that every once in awhile. When I'm horny." 

Howie's voice was tiny. "Cool," he chirped. 

Nick flopped down on the bed, resting back on his elbow. "So we have something in common." 

Howie tried to shrug. No big deal. No big deal. 

Nick smirked. "I bet you didn't know that all this time I could rock your world." 

"I've always known you could rock my world," Howie said truthfully. 

Nick leaned in closer, his hand moving across the blankets. "Want me to?" 

Yes. Yes, Howie wanted him to. Yes, yes, yes. He'd never even realized it until now. But now that he knew there was a chance - a connection - it seemed like all he wanted. 

"No," Howie said. 

Nick blinked. "Huh?" 

"No. I just need to sleep." 

Nick's eyes became cool. Distant. "Whatever." He got up and padded to the door. "Later." 

"Goodnight." 

It wasn't until the door shut that Howie started to breathe again. 


	2. Chapter 2

Howie managed to avoid temptation for about two weeks. For two weeks he called Nick "buddy" and tried to avoid eye contact. When Nick was too sick to make it to his own room, Howie sat on the edge of the tub with wide eyes, knowing Nick wasn't a threat when he was wasted, but the very presence of Nick making him shiver. For two weeks he tried to think of anyone other than Nick when he jerked off, but any other image seemed absurd. For two weeks he stayed away from the clubs, trying not to think about what that guy had been doing to Nick, or what Nick could do to him. 

One night Nick came to Howie's room again, but he was tipsy rather than full-on inebriated. Howie opened the door to find Nick leaning lazily against the frame, grinning at him like a wildcat. 

"Can I come in?" Nick asked. 

"Okay." 

By the end of the night they were soaked with sweat, clothes tossed to the end of the bed, Nick's moist fingers sliding in and out of him so easily it was like they were made to be there, and just that act made Howie's back arch and his skin tingle. And then Nick was inside of him, thrusting with a slow, maddening rhythm, bringing him to the brink and back again so many times that Howie wanted to beg, but he couldn't. When Nick finally let him come, Howie felt tears in his eyes. Nick climbed off him and crossed the room, his hand pushing his sweaty bangs off his face. Nick's skin was still flushed when he tugged his pants on and said, "I gotta go." 

Howie nodded and watched the door shut, and he knew the tables had turned. 

*** 

Nick and AJ sat on one side of the table. Howie sat on the other. It was his choice to sit there, and he scrambled to stretch out over the seat so Nick couldn't sit next to him. He didn't want Nick to be too close to him in front of AJ, afraid that his eyes would give it away, that his face would tell AJ the entire story before he could even form a sentence. 

"Do you have any Jacks?" AJ asked. 

Nick slouched down, his lazy eyes focused on his cards. "I hate this fucking game." 

"Just play the game," AJ snapped. Howie couldn't help but smile. Because deep down, AJ loved this game. 

"I feel like I'm in grade three..." 

"Do you have any fucking Jacks or don't you?" AJ asked. 

"No!" 

"Okay!" AJ started to reach for the cards, and Howie could see the gleam of humor behind AJ's sunglasses. AJ sat up straighter and looked at Nick. "You're supposed to say 'go fish.'" 

"Oh, fuck you. Go fish." 

"Thank you." AJ picked up a card and put it in his hand. 

Howie stared at his cards, rearranging them from smallest to largest. He put the Aces on the left, then reconsidered and put them on the right. 

"Your turn, Howie," AJ said. 

"I know. I'm thinking." 

Howie felt a foot bump against his leg. He shifted a little to get out of the way and it slid up farther, up to his knee and toward his thigh. He looked over and saw Nick watching him slyly, biting his lip a little. 

Howie gulped. "Umm..." He shot Nick a look, trying to get him to stop. Wanting desperately for Nick to stop. "Do you have any nines?" 

"Go fish," AJ said. 

Howie tried to close his legs, squeezing Nick's foot in the process, but Nick's toes squirmed against the crotch of Howie's pants. "Stop it," he mouthed. 

AJ raised an eyebrow, looking from one to the other. "What are you guys doing?" 

Nick still didn't take his foot away. 

"Nothing," Howie said. "I think I'm gonna go read or..." 

"Come on, Howie," Nick said, his voice low and impatient. "Stay and play with us." 

"He doesn't have to stay if he doesn't want to," AJ said. 

"Yes, he does." Nick's eyes stayed locked on Howie's. "The game's not over." 

"You don't even like this game," AJ said, his hands snapping his cards into a single stack. "He can go if he wants to." 

Nick sat up straight and focused on AJ. "Why don't you relax?" 

"Why don't _you_ relax?" 

"Okay," Howie cut in, trying to smile. "I'll stay. I'll stay." 

Nick smiled and slumped back again, resting his foot on Howie's knee. AJ shook his head a little and stared at his cards, scraping his teeth along his lip piercing. They studied their cards for a moment. Howie couldn't even remember whose turn it was. 

"He's not here to be your personal slave, you know," AJ said suddenly. Howie cringed before the sentence had even finished. 

"I never said he was," Nick snapped back. "What the fuck is with you?" 

"Guys, stop it," Howie said weakly. 

"You're always 'oh, Howie, I need you for this' or 'oh, Howie, I'm too drunk. I need you to hold my hair back like I'm a high school girl.' Maybe he has his own shit to worry about." 

Nick threw his cards on the table with a snap of his wrist. One of them slid across the table and landed in Howie's lap. "Why don't you shut up before I pound your fucking head in?" 

"Why don't you try it?" AJ snapped back. 

"Stop it," Howie said louder, reaching across the table at whoever's arm he could grab. 

"What's your problem?" Nick's hands were clenched into fists, his face fixed in what Howie thought of as the time-bomb expression. 

"You're my problem, bitch." 

Howie threw his cards on the table and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and yelling as loud as his lungs would let him. "Stop iiiiitttttt!" 

Nick and AJ looked at him unison, quiet enough for Howie to say what he needed to say. "I'm going to read," Howie said calmly. "And then I'm going to nap." He slid out of the booth carefully and went down the hall, rolling into his bunk as quickly as possible and putting the pillow over his head. 

Even through the pillow, Howie could hear shreds of the argument in the kitchen. He clenched his fists and bit into his lip so hard he could feel the indents from his teeth. It took every ounce of strength not to go out there and try to break it up, standing in the middle and gesturing weakly at both of them, trying to get one to see the other's point of view. But he remembered AJ's words from the drunken limo ride. He took on everyone's problems and he didn't need to. 

AJ's voice rang loud in the stale air. "...been friends with him for a lot longer than you...." 

"...and he...think you know him...." 

"...what I...know what he wants...." 

Howie heard a bang, not of someone falling or getting injured, but of someone hitting something. Then the volume of Nick's voice rose a notch. "I do know what he wants, because I'm fucking him." 

Howie's breath caught in his throat, the pillow lowering so he could stare at the ceiling of his bunk. "Oh my God," he moaned. "Oh my God." 

"You're _what_?" AJ said. 

"You heard me. I'm fucking him." 

Howie sat up quickly, flinging back the curtain and stepping out of the bunk. Must explain. Must explain. AJ strode to the opening of the hallway and stared at him. "Is that true?" 

Howie gulped. Tried to catch his breath. "Sort of." 

AJ paused for what seemed like a year, a thousand emotions passing through his eyes, before he gave a forced shrug. "Okay. Whatever. I take it all back then." He turned on his heel and disappeared around the wall. Howie knew AJ was sitting back down at the table, probably collecting the cards and putting them back in the tattered box. That was the worst thing about the tour bus. There was nowhere to go when something like this happened. 

Howie saw Nick lean back against the counter, his hair hanging in his eyes. He turned his head slowly and looked at Howie, their eyes locking. His expression was impossible to read. 

Howie ducked back in his bunk and pulled the curtain closed. He needed to talk to AJ. He needed to explain. AJ knew he was gay, but he didn't know about Nick. Howie suspected that Nick being into guys wouldn't be a big deal, either. It was just that Howie and Nick were into each other, in what AJ probably figured an unhealthy thing without the sex. He didn't want AJ to be upset, or disappointed, or think that Howie didn't have the willpower to keep his hands off Nick. And looking at it now, Howie realized that maybe he didn't. He was a slave to his own desire. A fuck up like the rest of them. And laying there in his bunk, he couldn't figure out why he'd ever thought he was anything different. 

***

The tour bus groaned as it pulled up the curb. The three of them were already stepping silently around each other, grabbing their stuff and yanking their suitcases out of their bunks. Howie let Nick and AJ go first, AJ shooting off the bus and into the daylight like he'd been fired from a gun. Nick walked casually behind AJ. Howie let them get a few steps ahead before he followed them through the back door of the hotel. 

Kevin and Brian were already waiting. "How was the ride?" Kevin asked, the way he always did. Nick ignored him and stepped first into the elevator. 

They rode up to their floor listening to Brian prattle on about some new singer he'd heard on country radio. Howie stared at his feet, Brian's words melting into one long sound in his head. AJ faced the door, his jaw set and his back to everyone. Nick stood behind Kevin. 

Everyone grabbed their key cards and headed toward their rooms, Howie a few steps behind AJ. Nick fell in step with Howie and held out his extra card. "Wanna trade?" 

AJ glanced back at them and Howie flushed. "Just wait." 

"Why?" 

"I just...want to talk to AJ for a minute." 

Nick's eyes narrowed. "Why?" 

"Just to make sure everything's cool." 

"Everything's cool," Nick said. "Isn't it, AJ?" 

"Very fucking cool," AJ said without turning around. He got to his door and looked at Howie. "Go with Nick. Everything's cool. I mean it." 

"Okay," Howie said. He followed Nick timidly, handing over his extra key card as he walked. 

***

Howie let AJ and Nick go out by themselves that night. They both wanted to, and Howie figured they needed the time alone. He crawled into bed around 11 p.m. and tried not to watch the clock, letting his breathing slow and his eyes close. 

His eyes opened automatically when he heard his door open. The clock read 2:14 and he stared at the blurry figure in the doorway. But it wasn't Nick. It was AJ. 

Howie sat up slowly, squinting at the light. AJ rocked back and reached around the corner, yanking Nick into the room. "He's fucked again." 

Nick stumbled, nearly running headlong into the wall. Then he turned around and fell against it. 

"What did he do?" Howie asked sleepily, already climbing out of bed. 

"I don't know. I didn't see him for about two hours and he came back like this." 

Howie flicked on the light, ignoring the slight pain in his eyes from the sudden brightness. Even from there, Howie could see that Nick's pupils were the size of quarters, his body a combination of nervous energy and dead weight. 

"Come here, Nick," Howie said. 

"No." Nick let out a short laugh and slid down the wall into a sitting position. "AJ has something to tell you." 

"No, I don't," AJ said quickly. 

"Yeah, he does." Nick waved his hand absently and let out another choked laugh. "Tell him, AJ. Tell him what you told me." 

"Shut up, Nick," AJ said sharply. "You're wasted." 

Nick waved his hand in front of his face, watching his fingers. "Go ahead and tell him. I think he'd like to hear it." 

Howie glanced at AJ. "Tell me what?" 

"Nothing." 

"Oh, come on," Nick croaked, sliding sideways until he was laying on the floor, his feet already moving to slip his shoes off. "Howie likes to hear that people love him. Howie just wants everyone to love him. Everyone loves Howie because he's so fucking perfect." 

It didn't matter if Nick was drunk and babbling. Howie still gulped, feeling a familiar flicker of ache inside him. "What are you talking about?" 

"AJ loves you," Nick sang. "He's not gay but he loves you. It's so fucking sweet." 

Howie couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. He sensed AJ put his sunglasses on and turn to the door. 

"He's been in love with you for years," Nick said, his eyes half closed. "Tell him, AJ." 

AJ was inching closer to the door, head down, like he was waiting for the perfect chance to escape. "He's drunk," AJ mumbled. "He doesn't know what he's talking about." 

"Help me..." Howie's words began and then faltered, and he had to clear his throat to get the rest of them out. "Help me get him on the bed." 

AJ turned slowly, his sunglasses still in place, and strode over to Nick. Howie grabbed Nick's legs, lifting at the same time as AJ lifted his arms. Nick grunted a little when they flopped him on the bed. 

"Roll him on his stomach," Howie said quietly, tugging on Nick's shoulder until Nick flopped over and stretched out on Howie's bed. 

Howie sighed and sat back, looking down at Nick's tousled hair, so blond from that angle that it almost looked white. AJ stood still, his eyes locked on Nick. Neither of them spoke until AJ said, "How do you sleep like that? With him taking up all the bed?" 

Howie shrugged. "Sometimes I don't." 

He hadn't meant to say so much in so few words, but everything was quiet again. 

"You can come sleep in my bed. You know, just so you have room." 

Howie reached over and touched Nick's hair, the strands like silk against his skin, Nick's eyes closed and his cheeks flushed like an angelic little kid. Howie let the strands fall through his fingers like sand and land back in their rightful place. "Okay." 

He ran his hand across Nick's forehead, Nick's skin warm under his palm, and turned out the light before he followed AJ. 


End file.
